“Mr. Zhu!” Qing Xia’s face showed panic as she cried out in alarm.
The old man slowly raised his head, looked at Qing Xia calmly, and laughed softly: “I never expected that after thirty years, I would still have the chance to see an old friend. Girl, you and I can be considered fated. Aren’t you from Penglai?”
Qing Xia was stunned and quickly nodded.
The old man smiled faintly. His face was deathly pale and frightening. With a bitter laugh, he asked: “I wonder, how has she been all these years?”
Heaven and earth wept together, all plants and trees grieved. Time roared past, transcending life and death. The graceful youth of yesteryear had now lost all the capital he once had to be proud of, yet that heart still could not be controlled. Zhu Qinghe, who had been cursed by people for many years, looked lovingly at this junior who was separated from him by thirty years in this moment between life and death, and asked in a deep voice: “Do you know whether Little Su is well?”
Qing Xia’s tears finally flowed down uncontrollably!
“I’m sorry,” Qing Xia said in a low voice: “I’ve only met Miss Tan Suning, the current Valley Master of Penglai. Her father has already passed away. I heard her mother lives in the Wangshu Tower in the inner valley and hasn’t come out for many years. I imagine her heart must also be very bitter.”
“Is that so?” Zhu Qinghe’s lips showed a bitter smile. “Even if it’s very bitter, it wouldn’t be for me. If not for this incident, she might have already forgotten she had a senior brother like me.”
The white-haired old man stood remotely in mid-air, his clothes fluttering lightly, fresh blood trickling down. He suddenly laughed softly and said indifferently: “They’re just deceiving me, just like back then.”
He slowly reached into his bosom. After a long while, he gently took out a withered yellow grass bird, smiled bitterly, shook his head, and sighed softly: “She’s not an ordinary woman. Over the years, she’s been decisive in killing and scheming without omission, yet she ultimately miscalculated about me. I’ve carried this green wood cloth bird with me for thirty years—how could I have thrown it in the water prison? Even if she broke with Tan Mianzhi, it couldn’t possibly be for me. But that she still remembers all the past events on Qingzhi Mountain is enough.”
Time flickered, mist and shadows swirled. Zhu Qinghe’s face was desolate and blurred, already unclear. One could only feel light and shadow permeating around him, as if drops of dust were rising.
Zhu Qinghe’s voice was low and hoarse, reaching the three people’s ears drop by drop. Amid all things scattering, the air filled with the sweet stench of fresh blood. The eternal wind blew past their sleeves, sprinkling down ethereal mist that filled the sky. He gripped the complex mechanisms, laboriously moving them bit by bit. Those thousands of axles and buttons, like dense honeycomb, crushed his already despairing spirit.
Thirty years ago, he had suffered false accusations, been framed by his sect, spat upon by his peers, cursed by the seven divisions, and pressed under this sunless Hongtian Water Prison by his own clan members, enduring the world’s most extreme suffering for decades. Thirty years later, he had emerged to see the light again, yet was still regarded as a great enemy by his sect, hunted and deceived. But now he was about to sacrifice his life again to save Penglai.
This world was all turbid, all dark. Human hearts were like snakes and scorpions, demons and evil spirits, conspiracies and schemes everywhere. What exactly was righteous? What was evil? Where was the truly pure promised land? That day on White Deer Plains, Zhuang Dianru spoke constantly of rebuilding so-called human immortality and great harmony, eliminating darkness and slaughter, protecting upright souls from pollution, supporting the kingdom illuminated by ancient sacred light—perhaps this would forever remain just an impossible dream.
At this moment, a clear whistle suddenly came from the tunnel. The three quickly focused their gaze and saw it was the fire phoenix that had just been ridden by the old woman, rushing back alone. A wave of scorching warmth immediately enveloped the entire stone chamber, rushing straight toward Zhu Qinghe.
Qing Xia was shocked and was about to intervene, but saw the fire phoenix suddenly cry out mournfully, dive forward, bite tightly onto Zhu Qinghe’s clothes with its sharp beak, then desperately pull him outward. Its voice was desolate and sobbing, and from its huge green phoenix eyes, tears continuously poured out. Seeing Zhu Qinghe looking at it, it desperately shook its head at him, as if telling him he couldn’t foolishly use his life to reclose the Tianji Lock.
This bird that had been carefully raised by Zhu Qinghe years ago finally recognized its completely changed master at the last moment and desperately escaped back regardless of everything, just to save him.
Zhu Qinghe’s spirit was greatly shaken. He looked down at the bird that was no longer the small palm-sized creature of the past, and desolation swept over his chest like an overwhelming tide. Time flew like an arrow, desolation everywhere. In this tragic wasteland where things remained but people had changed, only this phoenix remembered the old affection, using its simple mind to instantly distinguish between its own good and evil—no calculations, no conspiracies, not a trace of ulterior motives, only for that short six months of care, only for that little bit of gratitude from the beginning.
Endless desolation filled his entire heart and spirit. Zhu Qinghe suddenly laughed sadly, reached out to gently stroke the fire-red feathers on the phoenix’s head, raised his head sorrowfully and said: “I wasted my life thinking I was proficient in beast taming. Only today do I understand that truly skillful beast taming doesn’t lie in conquest through methods or oppression through force, but in spiritual submission. My life has been desolate, but I never expected to find a bit of warmth in you at the end. This heaven and earth is so vast, but what is there for a lonely ghost like me to be attached to? This life should have been let go thirty years ago. Living these extra years has only been asking for suffering. Since she so wants me to die, why don’t I fulfill her wish? She has hated and resented me all her life—perhaps only in this matter can I satisfy her intentions.”
After speaking, he suddenly raised his head and cried hoarsely: “In any case, I’m unwelcome in this world. Why suffer in this lonely world? Better to achieve nirvana here, return to nothingness in heaven and earth, dissipate into formlessness, and never have so many troubles again.”
Brilliant colors soared into the sky. The fire phoenix’s mournful cries grew even stronger. Its wings fluttered as it struggled to pull Zhu Qinghe away, tears streaming continuously from its eyes, its voice tragic and shrill, filled with desperate reluctance and sorrowful regret.
Qing Xia couldn’t bear to watch and helplessly closed her eyes, feeling her heart heavy as if pressed by a thousand-ton boulder. She heard Zhu Qinghe’s voice in mid-air, bold and forthright yet gradually weakening, his tone like weeping, singing a long song as if crying.
Suddenly, a dazzling brilliance spread across heaven and earth. A tremendous tearing force violently tore Zhu Qinghe’s body apart, turning it into countless flying blood and filth. In just a blink of an eye, there was a “clang” sound, and everything returned to ruins. The ancient machinery stood quietly in the stone chamber, as if it had never changed.
Qing Xia focused her gaze and saw that in the empty stone chamber, all around was deathly silent, dust accumulated, walls ancient and simple—where was there even the slightest trace of Zhu Qinghe’s shadow? Such a brilliantly talented yet deeply suffering predecessor of Penglai had actually disappeared without form into heaven and earth in such a manner, never again to be found even a trace of clothing or breath, as if he had never existed at all.
If not for the stream-like fresh blood covering the ground, Qing Xia would almost think everything just now had been a dream. Looking at the fire-red phoenix bird standing dazed in place, that feeling of having had a great dream became even stronger. Wasn’t this chaotic human world just a great dream of floating life?
The fire phoenix stood dazed in place, looking around bewildered, as if still unwilling to give up searching for Zhu Qinghe’s shadow. Qing Xia felt sad in her heart, slowly walked forward, and gently patted the phoenix’s neck, knowing this simple-minded large bird couldn’t yet accept the fact that its master who had been missing for thirty years had just disappeared like this. The fire phoenix stared blankly at Qing Xia, slowly turned its green phoenix eyes to look back at that empty stone wall, and finally seemed to think of something—large tears once again overflowed from its eye sockets, dropping one by one onto Qing Xia’s clothes.
The fire phoenix lowered its head and stood beside Qing Xia, motionless for a long time. This never-before-seen person and beast suddenly shared the same desolate feeling. In this Hongtian cave isolated from the outside world, time roared past, transcending life and death. Those old affairs buried by dust were finally gradually submerged by great waves again, never again to be seen.
“All the demons and evil spirits have been swept clean. Now it’s your and my turn.”
Chu Li snorted coldly and slowly walked forward.
One grain of sand, one world; one flower, one heaven.
In the deathly silent stone cave, sticky blood water covered the ground everywhere. Chu Li wore a black-gold long robe, with ink-black hair and dark pupils, sharp eyes, holding his long spear diagonally, looking proudly at the white-robed, graceful Qin Zhiyan, saying in a deep voice: “Let’s begin!”
Even in such a dirty and chaotic environment, Qin Zhiyan still had white robes fluttering, transcendent and refined, his handsome face smiling faintly, yet his eyes held not the slightest trace of mirth. He said coldly: “Green mountains cannot block it, the great river flows eastward. Those who understand the times are true heroes. Your Majesty hasn’t eaten or drunk for three days and is now at the end of your strength. Why insist on competing with this prince at this time? Victory would be without honor—better not to win at all.”
Chu Li raised an eyebrow and said coldly: “Arrogant words, shameless boasting! I’m strong and healthy. Fighting your half-dead body gives me complete advantage. You’re afraid of losing to me and making a fool of yourself, so you make these excuses.”
Qin Zhiyan smiled and said: “Since it has come to this, if Your Majesty won’t listen, this prince is helpless. Swords have no eyes—Your Majesty be careful!”
“Likewise!”
With a whoosh of breaking air, two long spears instantly struck. In an instant, zhang-long cold light flooded out, dazzling flames scattered in all directions. Chu Li’s long robe fluttered wildly, his narrow eyes half-squinted as he twisted sideways and struck diagonally. Every move was vicious, directly attacking vital points, his body swift and fierce as a leopard. His entire being radiated unmatched arrogant kingly aura, intense killing intent surging up like a tide, sweeping across heaven and earth.
In contrast, Qin Zhiyan’s form in mid-air was as graceful and agile as a great bird, spinning rapidly. His moon-white robes were like floating clouds at the horizon. The long spear in his hands thunderously struck down from above, like a prosperous war god, born from blood, the room’s lamplight and brilliant colors reflecting off each other, making his face appear even more handsome and proud.